A/N: Sorry for the long wait folks, but I've had a busy time of it. No excuse I know, right Leanan?

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, it belongs to Robert Rodriguez.

Sands felt his way through the hallways of the CIA building, occasionally bumping into people. Ciara rolled her eyes as the terrified younger agents purposefully avoided the notorious Sheldon Jeffery Sands. Inwardly, however, she was laughing her fucking head off. The funny thing was that these poor kids had every right to be afraid of Sands. The last time a younger agent had bumped into Sands was during a routine fire drill...that guy's balls were never quite the same after that...When the pair reached the elevator Ciara turned to see Sands dangerously close to her. Rolling her eyes at the blind dufus she pushed him back a couple of steps. Immediately he drew his gun a pointed, as luck would have it, right between her eyes. Once again putting his face close to hers he whispered in her ear.

"The last girl who did that ended up with her back against the wall of an elevator with only one thing holding her up."

Slowly Ciara backed up into the elevator and closed the doors. Weird, Sands thought. Doyle's not the type to give in that easily. There had to be something up. Ultimately the winner of the boxing match between Sands' brain and his groin was, of course, his groin. As he started to move Ciara back to the elevator wall a strange thing happened. There was a click and, instead of Sands poking her, she was poking him.

"I wouldn't move a step further if I were you," the younger agent said. "You've lost a lot Sands. I doubt you want to lose anything else."

Immediately he backed off, smiling mischievously. When the elevator reached its final destination the two got out into a huge room: CIA Headquarters. The room looked like it had many partitions placed in it to create offices. In between the offices were small hallways, all connected to one long hallway that went across the entire building. Ciara began to walk down the long hallway followed closely by Sands. As they passed she could see faces poking out of the doors and peering through the windows. Ciara rolled her eyes. What did they think this was? A fucking bridge game? This was the fucking CIA! And yet here these morons were, some of them the most highly revered men and women in the agency, and they were staring like simpering idiots! And what a sight this must have made: the former most dangerous agent being led like a child down that gauntlet by a disgrace. But Sands didn't need to know that. He didn't need to know that the only reason Ciara had been chosen was because they couldn't find anyone brave enough to pick him up from the airport. They couldn't find anyone he knew but her. At the end of the hall was a door. When they reached it Ciara turned the handle which caused a panel in the frame to appear. Ciara pressed the keys in a patter that unlocked the door and slowly it swung inward. Grabbing Sands' wrist, Ciara entered the room.

"Ah, Agent Sands, Agent Doyle. So good to see you."

The oiliness of that voice made Ciara cringe, but Sands stepped forward with a look of recognition on his face.

"Forrester?" he said. "How the fuck did you get put in charge?"

The other man smiled, though Sands couldn't see him. Ciara could and shivered. There weren't many things that freaked out Ciara Doyle, but Tom Forrester was one of them. Even looking at his cold blue eyes she thought this man makes Sands look like an overly horny puppy on the evil scale.

"Sit," he said. They did. "Glad to see you made it out of Mexico," Forrester said. "When Langley received your call they were surprised. First because they thought you'd died in the coup. Second because you'd never called in before. Ever."

Sands sat back in his chair and lit a cigarette.

"Well Forrester I didn't think I could make it back without money."

Forrester nodded.

"That's why we brought you back," he said, walking over to Ciara and toying with a piece of her hair. "That's why we sent Miss Doyle over here. We know how you two are close."

Ciara started to turn bright red with humiliation. She knocked Forrester's hand away.

"Do you need me for anything else?" she asked.

"Oh I think so," Sands replied.

Ciara kicked him under the table.

"Actually," Forrester said, "it seems that the director wants the two of you to work together."

Sands raised his eyebrows.

"Oh really?"

Forrester nodded.

"It seems that the daughter of an American senator has been kidnapped."

He clicked on a remote turning on a projector. On the screen was a pretty girl of about eighteen with dirty blonde hair and brown eyes.

"This is Mary Sutherland," Forrester said. "We believe that she's been kidnapped by a drug cartel that centers itself in Los Angeles. Her father is known for his participation in the war on drugs. Seems that this is a revenge hit."

"So you want the two of us to go to LA?" Ciara asked. Forrester nodded. "So I'm back on the job?"

"Well," Forrester said. "Against my better judgment, but at the request of my superiors, you're back."

"Thanks."

"You'll get your itinerary from Showalter."

"Okay."

Later as the two walked down the hall, Sands following the best he could, something Forrester had said flashed through his mind.

"Doyle? Why'd you get kicked out of the CIA?"

Ciara sighed.

"Fuck."

Yes folks, I'm back. Leanan, you happy now? Don't worry, you'll appear missie, probably as a femme fatale of some kind.